“Mel and I snuck into a gay bar during senior year of high school,” Steph said. “It was our first gay bar. Lisa was playing pool with some other women. When their game finished, Lisa challenged me and then she beat me.” She seemed amused by the memory. “She wanted me to buy her a drink because I lost, but I wasn’t sure if my fake ID would work on the bartender, so I asked if she wanted to get pizza instead. I thought she’d turn me down, but she didn’t, and the rest is history.”

I knew I was supposed to think the story was cute, but instead it disappointed me. “So you’ve been together for what, a few years?”

“Three and a half years. What about you? You have a boyfriend?”

Before I could answer, Lisa and Mel returned.

“Did you order?” Lisa asked, pulling out her chair.

“Yeah,” Steph said. “Just now.”

“I’m starving,” Mel said, and sat down with her beer.

“Baby, you have to see this,” Lisa said, holding her phone out to Steph. “Look what Joey sent me. There’s a street party in the Castro right now to celebrate the decision.”

She handed her phone to Steph, and I could hear the tinny sound of dance music and cheering.

“Wow, that’s a lot of people.” Steph turned the phone around to show me and Mel.

I leaned forward to look at the video. Thousands of people were packed onto a long street that rose up a hill in the distance, many waving flags with yellow equal signs. Their bodies moved like waves as dance music blared, and then the camera jerked upward and showed a red neon sign that read CASTRO before the video abruptly ended.

“Looks like Pink Saturday,” Mel said.

“Without the straight people,” Lisa said.

Steph gave the phone back to Lisa. “Sorry we couldn’t go down there tonight.”

“No, I’m glad I saw your show,” Lisa said. “You were so good.” She pulled Steph to her and smacked a big kiss on her lips, and then turned to Mel with a grin. “Wasn’t she great?”

Mel nodded. “You been holding out on us. Was that a new song? You need to play your own show sometime. We could get people there.”

“I don’t have enough songs yet.” Steph glanced at me. “I’m still working on a few before I can do a solo show.”

“Maybe you can rework some of the songs you wrote for Madchen,” Mel said. “You should talk to Roxy about it on Saturday.”

“You made plans with her?” Steph asked, surprised.

“Not plans plans, but it’s Dyke March, so she’ll be there.” Mel turned to me. “What about you? What are you doing Saturday?”

“Um . . . not sure,” I said.

“You should come,” Mel said.

Lisa began to smirk.

“Come to what?” I was confused.

Mel grinned. “The Dyke March.”